Willing Captivity
by Katherine RaineKeth
Summary: Alternate universe in which Gordon was never able to track down the Ogre with that crappy drawing (Please, that drawing?). Barbara continues to be Jason's captive after the murder of her parents. Conflicts arise between the two as Barbara deals with her need for freedom, her abandonment issues, her growing feelings for Jason and the murderous streak in her that Jason has set free.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gotham or its characters.

 **Author's note:** This story is set in an alternate universe in which James Gordon never found out what the Ogre looked like or where he lived, because, well, nobody can track down anybody with a drawing like that. "It's kind of a crappy drawing." - Selina Kyle

This prologue introduces the dynamics between Jason and Barbara and provides a basic back story of what happened in Mr. & Mrs. Kean's house. You will find the first half of it familiar looking if you have read my other Gotham story "Murdering Passions". Enjoy!

—

 **Prologue**

—

Jason covered her mother's mouth with one hand, his other hand pressed a knife against her father's neck, effectively silencing him. The blade gleamed dangerously against human skin. "Barbara, tell them what they did to you," he told her.

Barbara stared at them blankly as her parents stared back in horror, their expressions pleading. "What?"

"Tell them what they did to you," Jason repeated.

What they did to her? She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

They'd treated her as if she was nothing but a pretty vase in their house. They'd disregarded her feelings, her interests, and her dreams. They'd deprived her of their time, praises, and attention. They'd dismissed every one of her relationships as unworthy of their concerns. They'd shut her out, like she did not belong.

But they had raised her. They had fed her, provided her with clothing, education, shelter…

"Barbara," Jason spoke again, a hint of warning underlying his tone. Yet his voice was smooth like silk, drawing her deeper and further into unknown darkness. "Tell them what they did to you. What did they do that made you hate yourself so much? What did they do that made you hide? What did they do that turned you into a _shell_?"

Barbara sucked in a breath. His words were like an arrow to her heart.

"We did no such thing!" Mr. Kean exclaimed.

Barbara's entire body shook as she stepped forward and forced the words out, "That is it. You did nothing. You did _nothing_."

At her parents' horrified looks, the truth hit home. She whispered, "You. Never. Loved. Me."

X X X

 _Jason clamped his hands firmly over the couple's mouths as she stabbed them repeatedly, one after another. Adrenaline ran through her as the blade met flesh, and blood spattered everywhere, staining her snow white dress._

 _In the end, all she could see was his brown eyes, wild and intent._

 _He was proud of her._

Barbara awakes with a sharp intake of breath, her skin cold and damp with perspiration. She pants as her eyes sweep around the room, the images of her dead parents still etched into her mind.

Her heart races at her unfamiliar surroundings. This is not her apartment—

"Nightmare?"

Barbara jumps, not aware of someone else in the dark room. Her darting eyes finally settle on the man lying in bed beside her.

Then it all comes back to her: how Jason held her captive, how he made her confront her parents, how he _set her free_.

Barbara shudders, feeling a chill creep up her spine. She has no recollection of leaving her parents' house and coming back to his apartment. It was a blur.

"Come here," Jason holds out his arm to her, his voice deep and raspy from sleep.

She swallows hard and doesn't move.

He makes an impatient noise. "Barbara, come _here_."

Barbara gingerly slips into his arms, and despite herself exhales in relief at his touch.

It is as comforting as it is scary.

"Sleep. Everything's fine," Jason murmurs and presses a kiss on her forehead.

And she listens to him.


	2. Chapter 1

**1**

When Barbara opens her eyes again, it is already morning and she is alone in Jason's bedroom.

She slowly gets out of bed, feeling a strange sort of deja vu. It has only been a day since she walked out of Jason's bedroom and discovered that she was not allowed to leave.

Barbara swallows the hard lump in her throat, sharply reminded that she is still his prisoner.

When she enters the living room, Jason is sitting on the sofa with his back to her, his attention fully captured by the TV.

 _"…wealthy old couple found dead in their home…"_

Barbara freezes, and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end at once. Her feet move of their own accord and soon she is sitting right next to him.

 _"…police revealed that the victims were brutally stabbed to death…"_

She watches the news with detached serenity. Jason doesn't stop her, or turn off the TV; he merely gazes at her, watching her reactions.

If Barbara didn't know better, she'd think Jason is being cruel, trying to torment her with the inescapable guilt of murdering her own parents.

 _"…The GCPD urges witnesses to provide information and help solve these gruesome homicides…"_

The truth is Barbara feels relief wash over her as removal workers bring long, white body bags out from the house and transport them to the pick up truck.

It wasn't a dream after all. She _really_ is free of her parents. Her parents, who she was never able to please, who remained indifferently clueless as to what she really was in their moments of death.

Jason must know that too. Her lack of guilt.

 _Then why is he still here?_

Barbara turns to face Jason and tilts her head. "You're not running away screaming."

"No, I am not," he says with a quiet certainty, then suddenly his face hardens. "And neither are you, I hope."

Barbara forces herself to return his gaze, and her skin crawls. It hasn't slipped her mind that the last time she tried to escape Jason chained her up in his kill room for God knows how long. She gives a slight shiver. "N—"

Jason presses an urgent kiss on her lips, and Barbara meekly kisses him back, her heart pounding like a thousand horses galloping in her chest. He grips her face gently to open her mouth and pushes his tongue inside, devouring her hungrily.

Finally, she is all his.

.  
.

Jason eventually breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against hers, his breathing labored as he speaks, "Let's have some breakfast, then you'll do something for me."

Jason smiles as Barbara chows down her omelette and toast.

This is going much better than last time. She will be a good girlfriend. She will be the one who learns to love him unconditionally.

Barbara slowly sips her coffee and plays with her onions with a fork, anxious about what will happen next.

That's when he drops a bomb on her. "I need you to go to the police station."

She looks up at him in shock. "What?"

"You saw the news," Jason says, his tone casual and relaxed. "You just found out that your parents got murdered, so you go to the police station."

Barbara blinks several times as her brain processes what he says. Of course, that is what a normal daughter would do. She watches the news and finds out that her parents have been murdered, she goes to the police department.

Never in a million years would she have thought that she'd become a criminal, a murderer…and a remorseless one.

She sets down her fork and clears her throat. "Where…where was I yesterday?" _Locked up by a serial killer._

"You were tired and burnt out, you rented a cottage outside of Gotham and spent the day. You wanted time alone and neglected your phone," Jason replies smoothly, his face serious and truthful, betraying nothing.

"B-but," Barbara stammers. "But if they check…"

Jason's lips curl into a smirk. "When you have enough money, the system is on your side. You left Gotham on a whim, came across a cottage and rented it last minute from a man named Joshua Walker, that's why there is no phone records."

Ah. Now she understands. Jason has persuaded some cottage owner named Joshua Walker to be a witness. With just money? Or his more persuasive knife? She is too afraid to ask.

Though the alibi does make sense. It would not be the first time she left Gotham on a whim. Jim would know.

"Someone probably saw you leave with me at the ball," Jason adds. "If anyone asks, you left with a guy, spent a night in his apartment and parted ways. Give them a fake first name, no last name."

Barbara replays his instructions in her head, then she licks her dry lips nervously and whispers, "He knows when I lie."

Jason gives her a questioning look.

"J-jim," she croaks, "he might know when I lie. He knows me."

Jason presses his lips into a thin smile. _One day she'll put James Gordon out of her mind. He'll make sure of that._ "He's running around chasing after me, he may not be on your parents' case. Take your phone with you and put it on speaker mode, if it comes to it I'll give him a call to get him out of the station."

Barbara widens her eyes in surprise. "You're not going with me?"

Jason shakes his head. "Don't want Gordon to see me with you. It's too risky."

Barbara stares at him in astonishment as reality sinks in. _She is going alone_. Her heart flutters at the thought of possible freedom.

"Prove to me that I can trust you, Barbara. You will come back here right after you go to the station. I don't want to hurt you," he says earnestly, then he looks thoughtful for a moment and turns his eyes to the set of doors that lead to his kill room. "Show me that you aren't like the others."

Barbara's heart gives a sudden thump of alarm. _The others…the other women who he gave up on and killed_. She turns his face back to look at her and promises urgently, "I'm not." Worried that that isn't enough to convince him, she reaches over to press a desperate kiss on his lips.

He allows. "I know. I know you're not."

 **2**

Barbara fidgets with her fingers as the taxi driver drives away. Jason'd taken her to the train station and let her board the taxi from there, in case the police decides to trace her route.

She turns to watch as Jason's car gets smaller and disappears from her view. He is gone for now, but she is acutely aware of her cellphone in the outer pocket of her purse. It is on speaker mode and he can hear every sound that she makes.

What if she hangs up the phone and asks the driver to take her somewhere else? _Actually_ out of Gotham city?

 _"Trust me when I say I can find you wherever you go."_ Jason had warned her. Barbara's stomach churns and she wonders if he has put any tracking devices on her. She quickly checks her purse and pockets, then exhales weakly. Even if he has, it wouldn't be that obvious.

Soon the taxi driver pulls over by the GCPD.

Barbara steps into the station and walks up to the nearest officer. "My name is Barbara Kean, my parents have been murdered."

.  
.

Jason'd practiced with her several times before she left. Turned out it wasn't too difficult after all.

 _Do you know who might want to kill your parents?_

No, we didn't talk often. I-I don't know who'd want to do such thing!

 _Anything that your parents did that's out of the ordinary?_

I don't think so, but not that I'd know, the last time I saw them was half a year ago. I...I know I'm not being helpful here, but please, you have to find out who did this.

She could not work up a single tear, but the shock and stunned confusion on her face were genuine enough.

The cops did not give her a hard time. While it is true that she is going to inherit her parents' assets, business in the art gallery has been steadily growing. She was hardly the richest, but she certainly did not need to kill for money.

Then it becomes clear why Jason trusts her with the cops. There is no way that she can expose him without exposing herself. For better or worse, they are on the same boat.

She is already at the door ready to go when someone shouts her name.

Barbara turns. Her breath gets caught in her throat when she sees James running up to her, with Bullock following closely behind him.

"Barbara. Thank God you're alright. Where were you the entire time? I kept calling you but you wouldn't answer the phone," James rambles on with relief on his face.

"I-I wasn't in Gotham. I came here as soon as I saw the news," Barbara whispers, her heart picking up speed as she deceives him.

"You left Gotham? With who?" James furrows his brows.

"By myself."

"Wait, so you just left Gotham on your own without telling anybody, without even answering your phone?" Bullock frowns, suspicion colouring his tone.

James nods at Bullock. It wouldn't be the first time she did that. But if the Ogre didn't get Barbara, does the murder of her parents have anything to do with him? "Barbara, I'm sorry about your parents. Let me know if you need help with anything. Anything at all." James pauses and takes a deep breath. "But I need to know something," he fishes out a drawing from his pocket, "have you seen this man?"

Barbara looks at the drawing and almost laughs. Is that the best picture they have of Jason? She bites her tongue and manages to keep a straight face. "Jim, that could be anybody."

"What about the guy you left with from the Wayne Enterprise Ball? Does this look like him?" Bullock asks.

Barbara frowns. "How did—"

"Barbara, please. This is important. Does this look like him?" James urges.

She pretends to look at the picture again. "I guess? I mean, he is white, and he has dark hair."

"It could be him." James turns to Bullock.

Bullock rolls his eyes. "Do you know how many white guys have dark hair in Gotham?" He gestures at the other side of the station. "It could've been Ed, if you even wanna go there. She wouldn't be alive if it were the Ogre."

"What's his name?"

"Sean. Why? What's going on?" Barbara asks, feigning worry.

James exhales carefully. "We're investigating a serial killer called the Ogre, and we think he is going after the people I care about."

Barbara visibly blanches.

 _Was that why Jason chose her?_ "B-but…we aren't…"

"We think the Ogre is a little outdated on Jim's relationship status," Bullock snorts.

Barbara inhales sharply and balls her hands into fists. Her heart hammers viciously in her chest, this time for an entirely different reason.

"Barbara, you don't have to worry. We'll protect you," James assures, mistaking her reactions for fear.

His phone suddenly rings.

"Gordon," he answers, then his tone turns sharp. " _What?_ I'll be there right now."

"It's Lee, she got attacked," he snarls and promptly runs out of the station.

"Shit, so he isn't that outdated after all," Bullock mutters and runs out after James as well, leaving Barbara shaking with rage.

 **3**

Jason's hand shakes a little as he opens the door to his apartment, and he ponders what he will do if Barbara is not in there once he walks through the door.

He'd been reluctant to let her out of his apartment alone, it was too soon; but it was in their best interests. Barbara is the one, he is almost certain of it. If he wants her, then he cannot have Gordon tailing her, which is also why he had to go after Leslie Thompkins. To get Gordon's mind off of Barbara. He did not have enough time to kill Thompkins, but it was a good diversion nonetheless.

It was also a test. Can he trust Barbara? Does she deserve his complete affection and love? If she did not return, he _will_ find her.

But should he give her a second chance after that? Or will that be yet another broken heart? He clenches his teeth at the thought.

He pushes the door open and blows out a breath in relief.

There is Barbara, helping herself with a glass of red wine from his wine cabinet. She gives him an easy smile.

Jason smiles back. He likes that. The others…were always so fearful to see him. Their smiles always seemed forced and insincere.

But not her. She is opening herself up to him.

Jason walks over and captures her mouth, tasting the fruity flavour from the wine; she is deliciously sweet. "You did good at the station," he breathes.

Barbara wraps her arms around his neck. "Did I?"

Then suddenly she gives him a strong shove, weighing herself down onto him and knocking him backwards. Jason grunts as his back hits the hard floor. In one swift movement, Barbara straddles him and presses a knife against his throat.

This is a new one, he muses. The others had shouted, screamed, cried, begged; no one had _fought back._

"You lied. You _lied_ to me," she hisses, her knife hanging dangerously close to his artery.

Jason has no idea what she is talking about. His lips twist into a humorless smirk. "I am going to count to three, and you are going to put that knife away."

"You only came after me to get back at Jim," she spits, anger contorting her beautiful face. "All that talk about soul mate and love, I'm just your tool for revenge—"

"One," Jason counts, his voice cool and collected, like the calm before the storm.

"You thought you would turn me into a murderer so I'd never be able to face Jim again," She gives a heartless laugh. "You're wrong. I'm toxic, Jim doesn't want me anyway—"

"Two," he narrows his eyes, his tone strained with suppressed anger.

She should be afraid. Oh, she can tell Jason is angry, _very_ angry. But so is she. The wine has boosted her courage, and the knife is in _her_ hand. "The moment you realized you got the wrong person you went after Leslie Thompkins, but you didn't kill her—of course you wouldn't kill her, _every_ woman is your soul mate, until they aren't, that is," Barbara's lips curl in contempt and she presses her knife up against his chin. "Jason, or should I say, the Ogre? Do you regret setting me free no—"

" _Three_!" Jason swiftly grabs her wrist and gives it a good hard twist, making her cry out in pain and drop the knife with a loud clunk. In mere seconds the tables are turned as Jason pins her arms painfully behind her back with one hand, his other hand holds her jaw in a tight grip.

His chest heaves with fury as he speaks lowly in her ear, "Sshh. Let's return to our special room, shall we?"


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gotham or its characters.

* * *

 **4**

"I hate you. I hate you," Barbara repeats rather petulantly as Jason clasps the shackles shut around her wrists and chains her to the ceiling cross; her voice cracks and angry tears threaten to roll down her cheeks.

Over the span of mere days this man has put her on a full-blown emotional roller coaster. She has felt trapped, fear, excitement, anger, comfort, freedom, attachment…but never has she felt so _betrayed._

He made her believe that his affection and obsession for her were _real._

She yanks at the chains savagely. "I hate you!"

Jason puts his hands on his hips, his posture rigid and tense. "Is that all you have to say?" Irritation flashes in his eyes.

He is probably going to gut her. She knows he is a violent man, but she can't seem to stop herself.

"Yes," she manages a faint, defiant smile.

Next thing she knows Jason has her face in a firm grip and pushes a gag into her mouth. He deftly fastens the clasp behind her head as she struggles in vain.

He steps back and exhales heavily. "Then we're back to square one."

.  
.

Barbara's knees buckle and she hisses when her chafed wrists rub against the manacles.

She straightens herself to relieve her wrists, her arms feel like lead and her feet are beyond sore. She is exhausted.

 _"Then we're back to square one."_

Jason left the room without giving her another glance afterwards, and it drove her anger to its peak.

She's made as much noise as she could. She has shaken the ceiling cross with all her might, scraping her wrists in the process and making all the chains clatter together loudly; she has screamed, shouted and whined against her gag.

But Jason never came back.

And then she started to lose track of time. Tiredness would take over and she would doze off, only to snap awake when her body slumped and a sharp sting shot through her scraped wrists.

Barbara's eyes flutter open and closed with exhaustion. She feels like she has been in here forever. How much longer is he going to leave her here?

Then a horrible thought strikes her.

Perhaps Jason doesn't intend to come back at all. Maybe he is already continuing his quest for his perfect soul mate, leaving her in here to rot.

Cold despair stabs her heart, the pain sharp and abrupt.

She has imagined many ways that things could unfold between them. She imagined Jason might terrorize her, and then kiss her better in his psychotic way, then she imagined he might lose his temper and hit her, torture her, even kill her.

But in her twisted mind, being abandoned is the most unbearable of all.

Barbara sinks her teeth into the gag, her chest tightens to the point of hurting and bitter tears start to fall down her cheeks.

Her parents could not love her; Renee ran from her; Jim gave up on her.

Barbara Kean is so toxic that even a deranged serial killer can't stand her. It might be comical if it wasn't so _true._

Just not long ago she tried to kill Jason for playing her for a fool, and now she is sobbing uncontrollably at the thought of being abandoned by him _._

The irony doesn't escape her. She is losing her mind, just like him.

She can't tell how much time has passed when the door finally opens with a loud click.

Barbara watches with a mixture of apprehension and hope as Jason enters the room. His expression is not one of exasperation like earlier. He looks pensive, serious.

She can immediately feel an unsettling tension between longing and hate growing in her.

"Are you ready to talk?" Jason asks, his tone deceptively mild.

She glowers at him, her anger towards him undissipated.

Jason reaches behind her head to unfasten her gag. He gives her a look of someone disciplining his misbehaving pet and whispers dangerously, "Because if you say you hate me again I'm going to cut that tongue out."

The chilling threat is more than enough to make her hold her tongue when her gag is removed. She clenches her teeth as a tear trickles down her cheek.

But when Jason wipes her tear away with his knuckles and moves to release her arms, she can't help but blurt out, "You came back."

"I told you I love you, Barbara, and you need to start believing it." Jason looks at her chafed wrists in his hands and gives her a disapproving look.

Barbara's heart twists. "You don't have to pretend anymore. It won't mean anything to Jim that you have me."

"I never _pretended_ with you," Jason says patiently, "I told you—I was going to kill you the first night we met, to get back at Gordon. But I didn't, because I saw the real you, I wanted _you._ "

Barbara stares at him with uncertain eyes, her heart aches to believe him.

"You're not toxic, Gordon just never understood you." Distaste passes over his face as he mentions the detective's name. "But I do.

He leans in and murmurs in her ear, "We have something special, Barbara. Don'truin it. If I find out that Gordon still has your heart, I'll kill you."

Once again a mix of fear and elation fills her, making her almost light-headed. She closes her eyes and breathes in his scent, fresh and crisp and enticing. "No, he doesn't have my heart."

She doesn't think so.

X X X

When Barbara opens her eyes this time, she sees Jim.

She gasps and sits up with a jolt, her mind reeling. Then she realizes she is looking at the TV.

She must have fallen asleep on Jason's lap. She forces a smile at him, her attention still focused on the TV. "Sorry I fell asleep."

"It's okay. You were tired." Jason wraps an arm around her. "Gordon is damned adamant, isn't he?"

Barbara gives a curt nod, not trusting herself to speak.

" _At this point we only know that our serial killer is male, in his 30s, white with a medium build. He targets women from age 20s to early 30s in various bars, pubs and clubs. He is a very dangerous man and we urge the community to take extra precaution when going out to any bars or parties. Go with a friend or in groups. Make sure someone knows where you're going and who you're leaving with."_

Barbara's lips twist in dark humor. Jim's advice is a little too late for her.

" _The victims deserve justice and the GCPD will not stop until we catch this man."_

Jim looks like his usual serious, stern self when he is at work, but Barbara can tell he is seething with anger.

"He is losing his calm. He'll always be paranoid, wondering when I'll try to hurt his girlfriend again. He'll never catch me in this state of mind," Jason remarks with a satisfied smirk.

Barbara has seen that look on Jim's face before. Jim had the exact same look when she was threatened by Victor Zsasz, back when Jim still loved her.

The memory stirs a faint sense of longing in her. "But you didn't kill her. Why?"

"Got interrupted by her neighbor," he replies, annoyed.

"Will you try again? To kill her?"

Barbara swallows under Jason's searching gaze, but he doesn't question her interest in Leslie Thompkins. "Not any time soon. I'm sure Gordon has his people watching her all the time now." He turns off the TV.

She can't explain the sudden disappointment and frustration that crash over her. Before she can dwell on it further Jason is leaving the couch already. She stands up with a startled gasp when he comes back with a pair of shackles.

She backs away from him. "No…"

Jason jerks his head towards his kill room. "Would you rather sleep in there tonight?"

Barbara shakes her head frantically, feeling blood rushing to her ears. "No!" She doesn't _like_ that room. It's cold; it's deadly.

Jason grabs her arm and pulls her towards him, then he locks her hands behind her back fluidly. "These are padded, but it'll still hurt if you struggle."

"Jason…please…" Anxiety hits her and her hands tremble uncontrollably against the cuffs.

"Relax," he runs his hands up and down her arms in soothing motions. "I'm just making sure you won't strangle me in my sleep. You were pretty feisty today."

Barbara breathes hard and flexes her arms with discomfort. She looks up at him pleadingly. "I won't, I promise, I'm sorry…I don't like handcuffs…"

Jason's lips quirk up with amusement. "You liked them all right the first night you came here."

"T-that…that was different," Barbara stammers, suddenly a little embarrassed. She remembers vividly how hot and aroused she was when Jason cuffed her hands together the first night she came to his apartment.

But that was when she thought he wasn't dangerous; that was when she thought his kill room was just a _playroom_.

Jason comes around behind her and takes her in his arms. "I'm not going to hurt you, not unless you fight me. Even after what you did today, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He presses his lips to her ear, his voice sensual and low. "But my tolerance has its limits, you don't want to try something like that again."

He is doing it again! His words are both comforting and threatening, confusing her mind until she both longs for him and fears him.

Barbara squirms in his embrace nervously, then gives a small gasp when something grows hard against her hands behind her back. By instinct she grabs hold of the hardness. Jason grunts.

To her horror, her body is rapidly growing hot. She is suddenly keenly aware of Jason's broad chest pressing against her and his strong arms wrapping around her waist. The warmth of his body envelops her, making it difficult to breathe.

She tries to move away but only emits a soft moan when his hand slips up to cup her breast, the thin satin nightgown hardly any barrier at all. He gives it a firm squeeze, trapping a hard nipple between his fingers until she throws her head back on his shoulder and sweet moans escape her lips.

Barbara knows she is hopeless then, utterly and completely hopeless. Once again the line between fear and excitement is blurred.

There is no point in fighting, so she unzips the zipper on his pants behind her and reaches for his shaft boldly. A small smile tugs at her lips when Jason gives a low groan. Glad to know she has the same effect on him.

Before long her body spirals out of control.

It does take her mind wholly off of Jim and his _doctor_. For now.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I could be wrong but I have a feeling that Barbara doesn't like Lee very much. What do ya think?


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Gotham is awesome but I own nothing!

 **Author's note:** I want to thank the people who like this story and who've given me feedback. It means a lot to me. Thank you! And enjoy!

* * *

 **5**

Jason does not think he's ever been surprised by a candlelit dinner before. In fact, he is certain he hasn't.

His eyes adjusts to the dimness, all the while scanning the apartment for the blonde figure. The tall candles in crystal holders illuminate the neatly set up silverware and wine glasses on the dining table. He can smell roasted chicken.

Jason raises an eyebrow. Someone is feeling fancy today.

Then suddenly classical music comes on from his stereo system, followed by the clicking sound of heels and Barbara appears in the candle lit living room.

She is wearing a black evening gown with matching gloves that go up to her upper arms. Its low-cut neckline shows just the slightest hint of her cleavage, teasing him.

Barbara smiles coyly. "Care to dance?"

Jason's face cracks into an amused smile. That was what he said to her at the Wayne Enterprise Ball. She looks almost the same as the other night, except for the shackles that encircle her wrists.

The dimly lit apartment, the dancing candle flames, the elegant music…all deliberately romantic.

 _Nice try._

If she thinks he will take those cuffs off that easily, she has another thought coming. Nonetheless, he holds his hand out for her.

Barbara takes Jason's hand and slips into his arm. Normally she would keep one hand in his hand and the other on his shoulder, but the shackles don't allow it. So she places both her hands around his neck while he rests his hands on her hips.

They turn slowly, swaying their bodies gently to the soft music. It reminds Barbara of the first time they danced together, when Jason was nothing more than a sweet, attractive guy mingling at the ball.

"What got you in the mood for dancing all of a sudden?" Jason asks softly.

Mischief sparkles in Barbara's eyes. "Well, since I'm not allowed to go anywhere, and you won't take me with you to wherever it is that you go. A girl needs some entertainment."

One corner of Jason's mouth curves up. "Is that a complaint?"

"No." She rests her head on his shoulder. "I simply asked you to dance with me. I thought you'd indulge me that much."

Jason kisses the top of her head and murmurs, "You don't seem so afraid of me anymore."

"You said you wouldn't hurt me as long as I'm good. I believe you."

Jason arches an eyebrow in pleasant disbelief. That was a model answer, even the most cynical part of him cannot pick anything wrong with it. He rocks her gently to the music, thinking back to her stubborn resistance in the beginning. She has come a long way.

"Dinner smells good, thank you," Jason comments.

"I hope you like whole chicken. I mean," She gives him a rueful smile. "You did take all the knives away—"

Then suddenly something beeps.

"Oh. It's ready." Barbara pulls out of Jason's hug to hurry to the kitchen, but Jason pulls her back. He does not want to let go of her, not when she appears so docile and content and willing…

He wonders if it is an act.

"Forget about the chicken. We can eat it later." He pauses. "Would you like to hang out in one of the clubs that I usually go to? I know one of them has an event tonight."

Barbara's face lights up. "I'd love to."

"Okay," he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Let's go then."

"Wait…I'm just going to go…like this?" Barbara lifts up her shackles.

Jason smirks. "The place we're going…you won't look out of place in these."

X X X

Barbara did not expect this.

Yes, the good girl routines that she's been pulling is all for this. For Jason to let his guards down. She may leave one day, maybe not. Either way, she wanted him to take her out. She wanted him to trust her enough to not to have to lock her up 24/7.

But she didn't expect _this._

Fox Glove.

Barbara tries not to look at what is happening on the stage, or at the other tables around them. She does not consider herself a prude—no, she likes sex, and men, and women. She likes a little bit of pain and a few other kinks. But she still cringes at the few glimpses that she's caught in the club.

She sets her eyes fixed on the drink before her, yet she can't block out the noises of whips cracking, males and females panting and whimpering, chains clattering, moans and cries of pain and pleasure.

She can feel her cheeks growing hot. Beside her, Jason is as cool as a cucumber.

"Never thought you'd be this shy."

"Not shy, just not accustomed to…this," Barbara gestures to their surroundings. She takes a quick sip of her drink. "So you come here a lot?"

"Occasionally. But I've never brought anyone with me. You're the first."

Barbara looks up at him in surprise, and he chuckles. "Loosen up. People come here because they feel that they can do whatever they want and no one will judge."

Barbara arches an eyebrow at him. _She'll loosen up._ She squeezes his thigh playfully, just inches from his groin. "And what is it that you want to do?"

Jason almost jumps. "I'm glad you asked." Then he grabs her waist and pulls her onto his lap, making her straddle him. Barbara gasps, "What're you doing?!"

Jason cups the nape of her neck and captures her lips. When she tries to pull her head away, he pries her lips open, further invading her mouth with his tongue.

The sweet taste from the martini that she was drinking instantly spreads across his taste buds, mixed with the softness of her lips it is intoxicating. He growls and slips his hand up her thigh.

Barbara tears her lips away from him and glances around her nervously. The fact is if they do get it going right here no one will bat an eye. If anything, they'll be _fitting in._ But it doesn't mean she _wants_ to be on display. "Not here…" She protests.

Jason murmurs against her lips, "I want you now." He hooks a finger around her panties and pulls.

Barbara catches his wrist sharply.

Jason tilts his head to the side and gives her a hard look, daring her to outright defy him.

Her face falls a little and she lets go of his wrist. "Can't we at least get a…private booth…please?"

"Of course we can, but that means I'll have to wait. Why would I want to do that?"

At Barbara's disheartened look, Jason brushes a thumb across her chin, his eyes crinkling with a wicked smile. "Let's say if I do that, how will you return the favor?"

Barbara furrows her brows, then a small smile breaks across her face as she comes up with an answer that she knows will satisfy him. "I can't give you anything that you don't already have. I'm yours."

Jason's lips twitch into a pleased smile. "Fine. I'll get us a booth, wait here."

Barbara grins and slides off his lap. "I want to use the ladies' room."

Jason nods, he can see the ladies' room from here. "Don't be long."

.  
.

Barbara studies herself closely in the mirror, her hands diligently untangling a few strands of her hair.

"The man you're with, is he your boyfriend?"

Barbara turns to the source of the voice.

A woman is standing in front of the door. She has blonde hair, her red masquerade mask covers almost half of her face. She is wearing a spiked collar and leather lingerie that shows more than it covers.

She is an employee here.

"Excuse me?" Barbara asks.

The woman eyes her shackles. "He has never taken anyone here. Either he is your boyfriend, or your master. How long have you been with him?"

Barbara frowns. "Who're yo—"

"Leave him before it's too late," She says, her tone hard and tense, "whatever you're with him for, his looks, his money, it's not worth it."

Unease crosses Barbara's face. "Look, I don't know who you are or what you—"

"I know rich men," The woman spits. "They all have their kinks, some more sickening than others. But he, _Jason_ , right? He's a _psycho_."

Barbara's expression changes from wary to shocked in an instant. "What…what do you know?"

The woman purses her lips in momentary hesitation, then with one swift motion, she flips off her mask.

Barbara widens her eyes in shocked horror.

The woman looks somewhat like her, with her blonde hair, fair skin and delicate features; except the woman has a long pink scar curving from the corner of her eye to the wing of her nose. Barbara can tell the scar has faded, however, the heavy foundation does little to cover it up. It is prominent against her light skin, marring her otherwise pretty face.

It must have been a deep cut. What did that? A knife? A sharp knife. _The kind that Jason carries with him all the time._

Barbara feels like air has been punched out of her lungs.

"He…he…did this?" She asks weakly.

The woman gives her a hard, curt nod.

"But…why?…What did—"

The woman jerks her head up and glares at Barbara incredulously. "You think I did something to deserve this? You think there was a _reason_ he did this?" She snaps, bitter tears pooling in her eyes. "He is a _nutcase_. One moment he'd look at you like he wants to make love to you and the next," she drops her voice to a menacing hiss, "your face is going to end up like _mine."_

 _.  
._

Barbara staggers out of the restroom, her mind a racing train of scattered thoughts. The music and the perverted sex scenes around her barely register anymore.

 _No._ She will not end up like her, because Jason doesn't just hurt people and let them go. He _kills_ them.

She will end up like the women that he had before her.

A wave of dizziness overcomes her and she has to hold onto the wall.

Did she somehow forget that Jason is a murderer? A ruthless serial killer?

She has seen his weapons, his kill room, the pictures of his victims. She has been threatened by him. But she never saw the actual brutality first hand until now.

He is a cruel man. She should know, she knows all along. Yet she deluded herself into thinking that if she was good, if she behaved, he would let her live, even be nice to her—long enough for her to plot her escape if she wanted to. Or even more ridiculously, he could trust her and care about her enough that staying with him would become acceptable, maybe even enjoyable.

Her stomach churns and she wants to vomit.

That was not even naivety. That was stupidity.

Frightened tears well up in Barbara's eyes and she blinks them away. That was a _prostitute_. She would have done _anything_ he asked, but he still hurt her.

How did she believe that she could survive in his clutches? He is _not_ reasonable. Thinking back to the times when she defied him, how close was she to that fate? How close is she _now?_

"Took you long enough."

Barbara's blood runs cold at that voice. She jumps back so violently that she loses her balance.

She would have cracked her head open if Jason hadn't caught her.

"You okay? You seem jumpy."

She nods, swallowing her fear. _Don't show it. Don't show it._

Jason jerks his head towards the stairs leading to the upper level. "The booth is ready. This way."

The booth. Oh God. The booth.

" _One moment he'd look at you like he wants to make love to you and the next, your face is going to end up like mine."_

The blood drains from Barbara's face. She stammers, "J-jason…I-I don't feel well. Can we…c-can we l-leave?"

 _Please say yes. Please let him be fond of her enough to say yes. She can't have sex with him—not here, not right now. She can't handle it…_

Jason takes a good look at her. She _does_ look unwell. Her face is paper white, and her eyes are red-rimmed—he frowns—like she was crying.

"Barbara, is something wrong?"

"Nothing!" Barbara shakes her head, her eyes wide and innocent. "I'm just really tired."

Jason regards her suspiciously, then he reaches out to stroke her cheek—

She flinches reflexively and squeezes her eyes shut. Like he was going to hit her.

And realization hits _him_. She is not unwell _,_ she is _terrified_. Of him _._ Something is wrong.

Jason lifts her chin and commands, "Look at me."

Barbara opens her eyes and sniffles, drawing deep breaths into her lungs.

"What. Happened?"

Barbara tries to shake her head again, but Jason tightens his fingers on her chin. "Don't make me ask again."

Barbara cannot hold back her sobs any more than she can stop her trembling. Then she notices Jason staring straight past her.

She turns her head to look, and her heart almost jumps up to her throat.

A blonde woman wearing a red masquerade mask is serving drinks.

"Her," He observes. "She went in the restroom after you."

"We're leaving," Jason says, his chilling gaze never leaving the blonde.

Barbara recognizes that glint in his eyes—murder.

 **6**

Things begin to go downhill in the following week.

Jason is on edge.

He cannot stand the way Barbara stiffens every time he comes close to her. Or the way she apologizes ten times a day for every single little thing.

Or the way she curls into a ball on the far side of the bed after he makes love to her.

It is infuriating.

She is changing. She is becoming more and more like the _other_ women, and less like her old self.

She used to be the definition of paradox. Vulnerable but bold. Submissive but defiant. Proud yet self-loathing. Dark and sweet. Most of the time he could not tell if she wanted to pull away or press closer. She used to be _everything_ that he wants.

Now she is cold and rigid, hesitant and jumpy, not to mention, extremely clumsy. It has become plain irritating.

He should have killed Sally a long time ago, not _after_ she ruined everything for him, he thinks bitterly.

A sudden clank pulls him back from his reverie. Barbara has knocked over her coffee and it's spilled all over the table.

Jason closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can literally feel his patience draining.

"I-I'm s-sorry—"

He slams his hand on the table with a loud BAM, and Barbara whimpers, her body trembling uncontrollably.

 _Damn her apologies and her stuttering._ It was cute when she was embarrassed or slightly nervous. But _this._ This is simply annoying. Jason exhales, his jaw taut with anger. "Barbara, I have been very patient with you, but you're not trying."

Barbara drags in a few shallow breaths and swallows hard. Then she walks around the table and crouches down in front of him, her shackles jingling around her hands. She looks up at him, her eyes fluttering nervously. "I…know I haven't been myself. I promise I'll change. Don't be mad, please."

She stares at him for a moment, as if making sure that he won't attack. Then she reaches up to kiss him.

Jason picks her up onto his lap and deepens the kiss. God, how much he misses it when she would initiate. He takes a fistful of her hair and tilts her head up, giving himself better access to her mouth.

Then abruptly he stops.

Barbara has her eyes squeezed shut, her hands balled into fists and her body shaking against his. She is scared. _For no fucking reason._

He has had enough.

He shoves her off of his lap roughly, and Barbara grunts in pain when her shoulder hits the table.

Jason looks into her terror-stricken blue eyes and covers his mouth with one hand in deep thought. He finally says, "This isn't going to work."

He stands up and looms over her. "This isn't going to work."

* * *

 **Author's note:** What is the worst thing your captor can say to you? "This isn't going to work."

BTW, about Fox Glove. I remember Jim went to Fox Glove because a bartender claimed that The Ogre was a regular in the club? HOW DOES THAT MAKE SENSE? Unless Jason walked into the club and shouted "I'm the Ogre I'm the Ogre!"

So...I'll just pretend Jim never went there. (Or he went there but Sally didn't recognize the Ogre's drawing LOL)


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gotham or its characters.

* * *

 **7**

Breathe in…breathe out…

In…out…

 _"This isn't going to work."_

Barbara knows what that means. It means the cat grew tired of playing with its food and is going to end the game now.

She went without a fight when Jason dragged her into his kill room. She didn't struggle when he strapped her up and blindfolded her either. It just seems fitting, and is probably the greatest mercy Jason can show her.

It was always meant to end like this, wasn't it?

The strange part is, the crippling fear that has been drowning her is gone. She was so scared of falling out of Jason's good graces; she lived in constant fear worrying when Jason would turn against her, what he would do to her, how he would hurt her…the fear paralyzed her.

But now that Jason is finally ending this, it is almost…freeing. She is not unafraid of death, but that anxiety is nothing compared to the incapacitating fear that she felt in the past week.

No more psychological terror. No more suffocating passion. No more bungee jumping in his tenderness and sadism.

One stab of his infamous knife, she will be free.

So she waits quietly.

Jason takes a moment to contemplate his tools. He eventually picks up one of the larger knives, its blade long and sharp. He loved her. He'll give her a quick death. Never let it be said the Ogre is heartless.

"I thought we had something special. I guess I was wrong," he says with a hint of wistfulness. Then he adds optimistically, "I'll find her."

"Perhaps," Barbara responds impassively, ignoring the sudden jab of undesirable jealousy.

Jason's brows knit together, noting her calmness. He lifts her chin with the tip of his knife, and Barbara gives a small gasp at the cold blade against her skin.

"You're not scared," he remarks.

"Of course I am," Barbara mumbles, shivering a little. She wishes he would stop toying with her and get it over with.

Jason looks at her thoughtfully. "Any last words?"

Last words? Barbara starts to tilt her head to the side, then remembers the knife under her chin and stops. _She's gonna die anyway._ "Good luck finding your soulmate."

Jason narrows his eyes. The small hint of sarcasm doesn't escape him. "Anything else?"

And the words just flow. As Barbara makes peace with her imminent murder her temper is back. At full force. "You…are…an utterly _sick_ and self-deluded bastard. Oh, and I know where your soulmate is. 50 bucks she's in Arkham. I'm jealous of her. Arkham must be heaven compared to this. _You sadistic frea_ —"

Without warning the blade under her chin is replaced by his hand, and he is choking her. His hand wrapping around her throat constricts unforgivingly, cutting off her airflow. Barbara gasps for air, her hands clawing frantically at the chains, but nothing can go through the painful pressure around her windpipe. Then her lungs begin to burn and her chest tightens in agony.

She is glad she cannot talk. Because if she could she would be begging him to stop.

Just as her head starts to spin the pressure is gone, and she is drawing in desperate breaths, all the while coughing her lungs out. Her head pounds furiously and she realizes her face is wet with tears.

Jason blows out a mouthful of air. "Now _that_ was sadistic," he retorts.

"Just get this over with please…" Barbara pants, her voice hoarse from the assault.

Jason does not consider himself a torturer, not really. He usually finishes off his victims fast and clean. He positions his knife right at her heart, and his own heart aches a little. _He was so certain that she was the one._

Barbara can feel the pointy tip of the knife grazing her skin. She holds her breath, reflecting back on her entire life. She can't help but huff a weak laugh, "Ifnevafelsomuch."

Barbara waits for the stab. It doesn't come.

"What?"

"What?"

"What did you say?" Jason asks.

"Nothing."

 _"What did you say?"_ He asks again, his tone harder this time.

"What does it matter?"

Jason seizes her abused throat. "I don't think it's wise for you to provoke me at this point."

 _That hurts!_ "Ughh—I said I've never felt so much!"

Suddenly her blindfold comes off and she blinks, her eyes adjusting to the brightness. Jason is staring fixedly down at her—his knife put aside—his expression a mix of perplexity and incredulity.

He whispers, "You love me."

"What?" Barbara croaks.

A broad smile slowly spreads over his face. "You've felt like a shell your entire life. No one has made you feel any genuine emotions but me. You don't know it, but you love me."

"What? No!" Barbara denies, her heart thudding fast against her chest. "I've never _hated_ anyone more than you."

Jason shrugs, a small smirk playing on his lips. "There's only a fine line between love and hate."

Barbara gapes at him disbelievingly. She raises her voice. "You're insane. I don't love you. I'm sick of you."

"I hate it when you lie. Do you always get hot for the men you're sick of?" Jason's words say that he is displeased, but Barbara can tell he is exultantly happy with his discovery.

His _self-convinced, false_ discovery. "You're confusing lust with love."

Jason regards her contemplatively. "Maybe. Yet what you feel for me is the closest thing to love that you can feel for anyone."

"You're _wrong_!" Barbara grits her teeth, her chest heaving with conflicting emotions.

"Sshh," Jason brushes her hair away from her face, placating. "Admit it. Say you love me."

Barbara jerks her head away from his hand, keeping her mouth firmly shut.

Jason coaxes, "Say you love me, and I'll forgive you, for everything."

She does not like where this is going. She is tired of playing his games. He should be _killing_ her.

A few agonizing seconds pass by, and she finally says, "To hell with you."

Jason tsks with disapproval. He reaches for his switchblade and flicks it open, bringing it up to her jaw. He speaks slowly, emphasizing each word, "Stop lying to yourself. Say you love me."

Barbara lets out a hysterical laugh. "This is how you're going to make me submit. With a knife." Oh God, this has to be more ridiculous than making her tell him who to kill.

At first Jason gives her a blank look, then he tosses his knife onto the floor. He caresses her jawline and murmurs, "Now there is no knife, but you _are_ going to say it." Then he starts to plant soft kisses down her neck, carefully avoiding the marks on her throat.

"What—no—" God _forbid_!

Barbara struggles against her bonds and tries to squirm away from him, only succeeding in rubbing her soft body harder against his. Her breath hitches in her throat when he slips a hand under her dress, touching her smooth skin as he pleases, like he has the _right_.

 _Bastard!_

When Jason claims her lips she takes his bottom lip in between her teeth. She is about to sink her teeth down when he pulls back and warns, "If you bite me you won't like the consequences."

She glares at him a bit tearfully, and his face softens. "Barbara, don't fight me. I love you," he murmurs and resumes kissing her with a tenderness that breaks her heart a little. When he moves down to her chest, he teases her until she forgets that this is the same man who almost crushed her windpipe—three minutes ago.

 _What the hell is this? This makes no sense._

.  
.

She did say it. He eventually forced it out of her. He made her say it enough times till she couldn't tell if she meant it. Barbara had expected smugness, but he simply looked…happy. Like over the moon happy. He kissed her on the forehead and made love to her like there was no tomorrow.

Then the next day, he took off her shackles.

 **8**

"Hey." Barbara comes to Jason's side and hooks her arm around his.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I was never a dedicated owner anyway, my manager is used to me disappearing every once in a while. And thanks to the Wayne charity ball, business is looking good." Barbara pauses, then gives Jason a quick kiss on the cheek. "Uh…Thank you for letting me come to the gallery. I really appreciate it."

Truth be told, this small shred of normalcy is doing a ton of good to her sanity.

Jason kisses her temple. "You're welcome." He looks at the artworks around them. "So, why an art gallery?"

"Well." Barbara gives his arm a soft tug, and they stroll down the hallway together, admiring various artworks along the way, just like ordinary couples do. "I've always loved art when I was a child. I took a lot of art classes. Painting, drawing, sculpting…but then my mother told me I had no talent in art whatsoever, and told me to stop wasting her time."

She shrugs. "She threw all my artworks away and I stopped learning. I guess I still like it."

"Well. Then in this case I'll be the only one who says to you," he whispers in her ear, "I'm _not_ sorry for your loss."

Barbara grins, and Jason sees the blatant guiltlessness in her eyes. God, she is perfect. She is just as cruel as he is and does not know it.

She pauses for a moment, then she blinks. "That felt good. I just realized I've never told anyone about it. Not even Jim."

That pleases him even more. Jason presses a passionate kiss on her lips, and loves the way she reciprocates instantly.

Then suddenly he sees a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. "Thompkins," he whispers.

"What?" Barbara turns her head, and in the far end of the hallway, there is Dr. Leslie Thompkins, staring at a particular painting.

"I'm going to go to the back room," Jason says in a low voice.

Barbara furrows her brows. "Why? Did she see your face?"

"No, but women's instincts could be a dangerous thing. Meet me in your office." Then he stalks off to a separate corridor.

Barbara turns her eyes to Lee and makes an annoyed noise. Then she heads down the hall, fishing out a name card from her purse.

"Hi, my name is Barbara," she greets, handing her name card over. "I'm the owner of this gallery."

Lee smiles and takes her card. "Leslie Thompkins. Nice to meet you." She looks at her card, "Barbara…Barbara Kean? You're _Barbara_."

Barbara's lips twist into a smile, "Yes?"

"I've heard about you, from Jim," Lee says, her eyes crinkle with a warm smile.

Barbara knows that look. The look of a woman in love. "Oh. You must be Dr. Thompkins then. You're Jim's girlfriend."

"…He and I went on a few dates," Lee says carefully, downplaying their relationship a little, but the small smile on her lips says it all. "Jim was worried sick about you when you were gone. He thought the Ogre had you. I'm glad you're okay."

"Is that so?" Barbara replies mildly. "I was just out of town. Jim overreacted. To be fair, he's a cop. It's his job to overreact. So, what brings you here today?"

"Oh. I'm renovating my apartment and looking for a painting to hang in my living room. I think I've found just the one I want." Lee tilts her head towards the painting before them.

It is a painting of a white horse strolling gracefully on the field. A typical symbol for beauty, strength and purity. Not a hint of darkness.

It is the exact portrayal of Lee and the exact opposite of herself. Barbara could suddenly taste bitterness on her tongue.

"The painting suits you. Do you want to leave your personal information at the front desk? I'll get the painting delivered to your address. The manager will give you a discount," Barbara offers.

"Oh, thank you. That's very kind of you," Lee says, pleasantly surprised.

"Not a problem," Barbara smiles politely, though the smile does not reach her eyes. "It's nice meeting you. I still have some unfinished business to attend to. If you'll excuse me."

Barbara's smile vanishes the moment she walks past Lee. She marches down to her office, holding her hands together tightly to keep them from shaking.

.  
.

Jason pushes a mug towards Barbara. "I think you need to cool down a little."

Barbara has come into her office, slumped down in a chair across him and simply sat there for a full five minutes, looking pissed off. Though she is still a beauty when she is angry, it is time to put a stop to it.

She takes a sip of the cool water, her hand shaking slightly with dull resentment. "I want to kill her."

Jason nods his head in acknowledgement. His lips quirk up in a half-smile. "So you do understand the desire to kill. We're not so different after all, are we?"

Barbara blinks. _That's not fair._ "Maybe except I don't have the desire to kill my lovers?"

Jason raises an eyebrow at her.

Then Barbara makes a sheepish "Oh", remembering that she _did_ try to kill him once. "Alright, you're right. I do understand the desire to kill." She leans close to him and drops her voice to a husky whisper, "And I intend to do it."

She sits back in her chair and smiles slyly. "Unless you want to finish where you left off?"

Jason knows she is referring to last time when he tried to kill Thompkins and got interrupted by her neighbour. He picks up a pen from Barbara's desk and starts to spin it between his fingers, his eyes gazing at a particular spot on her desk. Then he says, "No, I do not. And you aren't going either."

"What?" Barbara exclaims, puzzled and shocked. "Why?"

"Why do you want to kill her?" Jason asks mildly.

"I don't like her."

" _Why_ do you not like her?"

"Maybe because she's so fucking perfect. Maybe because she annoys me," Barbara says with slight indignation. "I hate her. And you're…you're my… _boyfriend_. You should back me up."

"I'm glad you remember that," Jason stops his pen spinning and gives her a pointed look. "She's perfect, by _James Gordon's_ standard. I think you think that by killing her, _this_ can happen again." He flips a picture frame over from her desk to face her.

Barbara feels like someone has punched her heart. It is Jim and her engagement photo. They took the picture by the lake, Jim was hugging her from behind and both of them look incredibly happy.

That feels like ages ago.

Jim is a white knight. He was always there for her when she felt like she was slipping into darkness. He didn't know, but he kept her resentment for life in check. He helped her battle her own demons. Not Jason. Jason unleashes them.

"This is _not_ what it's about—"

"I don't want to hear it, Barbara," Jason cuts her off, then adds forcefully, "Leave Thompkins alone, get over Gordon. And I'll pretend I never saw this."

He pushes the picture frame face down onto her desk and blows out a breath. Then he smiles at her, "What do you want to have for dinner?"

* * *

 **Author's note:** HOORAY! It's summer holiday and for the first time in the year I feel like I have like loads of time on my hands (Watch me blink and it'll be September again). I'm gonna wrap this up soon :) Hope you guys enjoyed it.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gotham or its characters.

* * *

 **9**

Barbara leans against the wall and watches with increasing agitation as her staff packs a piece of oil painting. A sense of urgency slowly fills her while the staff carefully covers the art piece with plastic sheets, cushions it with bubble wrap, and eventually places it inside a box.

The painting is being delivered to one Leslie Thompkins.

 _Maybe she can deliver it herself._ Leslie will surely invite her in her apartment for a coffee, and things can proceed from there.

The thought disrupts the steady thuds of her heart, and suddenly it is all she can think about.

It is temptation itself dangling right in front of the beast within her.

 _Just deliver the painting,_ the beast urges. Barbara shifts her weight back and forth between her legs, feeling restless. Her darkness is demanding a release, and Barbara knows exactly what to feed it.

She has killed before, she can do it again.

Barbara opens her mouth to tell her staff that she will deliver the painting herself, but stops short.

She frowns. There are many ways to kill, but only so many that she can get away with.

Jason would know how. How to break in a house, how to kill without creating unnecessary mess, how to destroy evidence, how to create alibis…

Except he is not going to help her.

Barbara turns on her heels in annoyance, mulling over how _unfair_ this is. Jason taught her it was okay to kill, but it turns out it is only okay when _he_ allows it.

She feels like stomping her foot like a child, all because of that arrogant, insufferable control freak!

Then she hears a familiar yet unexpected voice.

"Barbara?"

Barbara looks up at the woman before her and surprise takes over her face. "Renee?"

"God. Barbara, you really are back." Montoya rushes over and gives her a tight hug.

"Renee, what's wrong?" Barbara gingerly hugs her back.

Montoya pulls back and looks at her with a mix of concern and accusation. "You ran away. You always run away, but Gordon thought the Ogre took you." She takes a deep breath in distress. "Every time I got a call I was afraid your body would turn up. You have no idea what you did to me."

Barbara stares at her wordlessly, both astonished and bewildered. "I…didn't know. You made it clear that you didn't want—"

Montoya kisses her.

Barbara widens her eyes in shock, feeling the feminine softness of Renee's lips brush against hers, the sensation vastly different from a man's kiss. Renee's long hair tickles her face and her light fragrance invades her senses.

It reminds Barbara of all the times she ran to Renee when life made her angry, and how each time Renee helped her forget with drugs and booze and sex, until she too, bore the burden of her hollow numbness.

Only now it seems wrong. Wrong person, wrong timing. Yet the rebellious part of her, the part that is _so_ mad at Jason, wants to just let it happen, wants to prove to herself so badly that she isn't his obedient Barbie doll.

So she closes her eyes and lets Renee kiss her deeper.

When Montoya finally pulls away, she looks distraught. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

"That's okay. I understand," Barbara says, feeling almost mechanical as they go through the same scenarios over and over. One moment Renee can't resist her, next she remembers that she is toxic for her. She used to be angry, but now she understands. Her darkness is too much for Renee to bear.

Montoya rakes her fingers through her hair and gives a rueful smile. "Try not to disappear without telling anybody again. Please?"

Barbara smiles. "I'll try."

Then Montoya gives her a chaste peck on the lips and leaves.

As Barbara watches her go, she feels like she has gained some emotional clarity, though she cannot pinpoint what. She shakes it off and heads to her office.

.  
.

The moment Barbara steps into her office, she can't breathe.

Jason is already standing by the window waiting for her.

"You're early." Her voice sounds strangled to her own ears, and her heart is suddenly racing with dread. _Did he see her?_

He shrugs. "I missed you."

Barbara studies him for a second. He has a half-smile on his face. His demeanor is relaxed and unbothered. Definitely not the reaction of a serial killer who just caught his girl making out with someone else.

She sighs inwardly with relief. "Me too."

Then he drops a brick on her. "The cop talking to you. What did she want?" Jason asks, his eyes cautious and wary.

Barbara's mouth fell open, too stunned to make a coherent response."…Cop…?"

"The woman talking to you. I saw her gun. What did she want with you?"

 _He saw Renee, but he didn't see all of it._ Barbara licks her lips and clears her throat subtly. "She's just a customer. She wants a painting."

"Is that so." Jason flips a page of an art magazine on her desk languidly, his face unreadable.

"What do you want to eat tonight? I can cook." Barbara gets her ragged breathing under control and smiles up at him. She laces her fingers with his and leads him towards the door, wishing to change the subject.

Jason firmly pulls her back to him. "Actually, I'm thinking of staying for a little bit." He raises her hand, and in one smooth motion, ties her wrist to a drawer handle with a cable zip-tie.

Barbara sucks in a breath. "Jason!" She yanks at the thin plastic strap, and it digs into her skin. Neither the strap nor the locked drawer budge. Her heart sinks. _Is this a game? Or—_

She looks up at him, full of anxiety. Jason's eyes are dark and frosty, and his mouth is flattened into a thin line. He presses a cold kiss on her lips, then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, just for show. "For one thing, your girlfriend's lipstick tastes awful."

Barbara's legs almost give out. Her voice quivers as Jason ties her other hand to the drawer handle as well. "I can explain—"

"No need." He holds her chin, locking her eyes with his own as he grills her. "Do you love her?"

"No!" Barbara answers quickly, terrified, and Jason scrutinizes her face, searching for the truth. When his tense jaw relaxes a little, she pleads, "It was just a kiss. It didn't mean anything—"

Jason presses a finger on her lips to silence her. "You know what I think? I think you're compulsively defiant, and you need a reminder." He stares thoughtfully down at her, then he pulls out his switchblade and flicks it open.

Everything in Barbara turns cold. "No…Jason…" _After everything, he is going to kill her just like that?_

"Be quiet, Barbara." Jason slips the blade under the collar of her dress. She whimpers and leans away from the blade.

Jason gives her dress a quick slice and it breaks apart in the front, exposing her laced bra and panties. He holds his knife tight in his hand and his eyes rake over her body.

Not in a sexy way _._

Deep in thought, he drags the back of the blade along her chest, to her arm, her stomach, and finally her thigh, the look in his eyes ominously mesmerized.

Barbara's skin crawls and goosebumps spread all over her, still she forces herself to stay put, knowing that physical resistance will only further angers him. "Jason—"

"Be quiet," he says again, and Barbara presses her lips together, trying to swallow the tight knot in her throat. She is scared, so scared. Ironically, she wishes she could bury her face in his chest and cry.

Jason turns around and grabs a bottle of rubbing alcohol from her desk. He pours some onto a paper towel and cleans his switchblade in a meticulous manner.

Tears start to roll down Barbara's cheeks. He is going to butcher her…his mind is set on it and she can do nothing to change it. Her voice chokes up when she speaks again. "Jason…please, let me explain. W-we used to be together. But it was over long ago. She thought I was dead, she thought the Ogre—she thought you killed me. She only kissed me because…because she saw me alive…" She sniffles, not knowing if the explanation is good enough. "There's nothing between us, really."

Jason looks at her, his face devoid of his usual affection for her. "Are you done?"

Barbara nods, her eyes hopeful. "I'm sorry."

She pales when Jason tears off a piece of duct tape and strides towards her. He pastes it across her mouth, and he isn't gentle. "You could have told me all that earlier. You chose not to." He picks up his knife. "I'm just going to hurt you a little. You'll survive it."

 _Survive? Like the woman from Fox Glove survived his attack?_ Barbara shakes her head desperately, sobbing and pleading.

He is going to cut her up and throw her out like an unwanted doll, like he did with the woman from Fox Glove. Except she knows too much about him, so he will have to kill her.

She is hyperventilating, then she feels the first cut.

Barbara whines, feeling a sharp sting in her thigh. Jason drags his knife across her skin, and the blade splits her skin open slowly, leaving a searing pain in its trail.

Barbara grits her teeth and sobs, her hands balled into fists and her knuckles turning white. Jason cuts into her skin again, drawing long and short lines across her sensitive skin. She is just as disposable as a piece of sketching paper.

Her thigh feels like it is on fire, and her legs tremble, but Jason doesn't stop. He keeps on cutting, his movements punishingly slow, ignoring her whimpering pleas.

Perspiration appears on Barbara's forehead, and her eyes beg him to stop. But Jason isn't even looking at her. She knows she'll have to endure it until he deems it enough.

He suddenly stands up and peels off the duct tape from her mouth, this time gentler, but Barbara still winces from the sting.

She blinks her tears away and looks up at him, frightened. _What's next?_ _Please, not her face._

Jason soaks another paper towel with rubbing alcohol and wipes his knife clean, then he cuts the plastic straps and releases her. "It's over."

Relieved tears fall down her cheeks at once. She looks down at her raw thigh and emits a small gasp. Her thigh is a fiery red, and it looks like a bloody mess. She looks closer and relaxes slightly to see that the cuts aren't too deep, though they will definitely leave noticeable scars.

Barbara then realizes that Jason hasn't been cutting randomly. In large block letters he has cut the words JASON LENNON on her upper thigh, the letters even and neat.

A peculiar feeling stirs her heart and she looks up at him in wonder.

Then without warning Jason squeezes her thigh, right where he cut her, and Barbara screams, her face scrunched up.

"Good. Remember how much this hurts," he whispers. "If you ever let anyone touch that beautiful body again, we'll do this again. On the same spot. I won't care if it's healed. I won't care if it hurts. Until you remember who you belong to."

Barbara nods frantically, her eyes welling up, and Jason lets go of her. Barbara lowers her head and swallows hard, her hand stiffly rubbing the dents on her wrists, her expression hurt and clearly unhappy.

Jason pulls her against his chest and murmurs, "You can cry."

Then as though a switch has been turned on, Barbara starts sobbing into his chest, each sob like a wordless complaint. _How can you hurt me like that? How can you scare me like that?_

"Sometimes I think you make me angry on purpose." Jason plants a kiss on her head. "Stop testing me, Barbara. I really don't want to lose you, okay?"

She nods, wiping her tears on his shirt. Jason rubs the back of her neck soothingly, and Barbara feels like he can easily break her neck with a snap. She yawns softly. After all the crying she just did she feels like sleeping, and there isn't better place than his arms.

She is so overpowered and subdued…and it makes her feel so safe.

X X X

Barbara wakes up on the couch in her office with Jason's jacket on top of her. She sits up and finds herself alone in her office.

The jacket slips off and she sees that her thigh is already bandaged up. She strokes the area gently with her fingers, and a warm feeling spreads in her chest. Underneath the gauze is Jason's name.

She should feel disgusted; she should feel repulsed. She saw it with her own eyes: JASON LENNON, the words burning her skin.

But there is no lying about it.

Her mind recognizes the twistedness of it all, but her heart welcomes it. _Loves_ it. Her heart is _overjoyed_ with the knowledge that she irrevocably belongs to that man. His to hurt, his to comfort, his to take care of.

Barbara's lips curve with rueful amusement. She has been fucked up her entire life, and this is no less. But for the first time, it feels good.

She pulls out a dress from her wardrobe and gets changed, getting ready to head home.

Then someone knocks on her door.

"Come in," Barbara says.

Her manager pops her head in and holds an ID card out to her. "Just found this on the floor—" She looks down at the card, "—Detective Renee Montoya from Major Crimes."

Barbara takes the ID card from her and looks at it. _Really?_ Of all things, Renee dropped her police ID card. She shakes her head and checks the clock. Jason expects her to be home by six. She still has time. "Thanks. I'll give this back to her."

She will make a quick stop at Renee's place to drop off her ID. Simple as that. It's not like she is going to give Jason any more reason to punish her, right?

* * *

 **Author's note:**

I'd planned for _something else_ to happen in this chapter…a breaking point, a major conflict, and it just didn't happen! Now I'm mad, 'cause my story is not listening to me! So now I'm making it happen in the next chapter *Shake my head*.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gotham or its characters.

* * *

 **10**

Renee's place has always been her place of refuge.

When she wanted to hide from the world, she went there. When she wanted to hide from Jim, she went there.

But Jason taught her that she didn't need to hide anymore.

Barbara looks at Renee's ID and smiles a little sadly. She should have no more ties with cops.

The elevator door opens with a soft _ding_ and she walks down the hallway, passing almost identical doors on both sides. She comes to Renee's apartment and gives the door a purposeful knock.

The door opens just a small crack.

Barbara tilts her head to look through the space curiously. _T_ _he door wasn't shut properly._ She gently pushes the door open and steps into the apartment, unsure. "Renee?"

Without warning a strong arm wraps around her neck from behind her. It pulls her up against a solid body and tightens around her windpipe, strangling her. She gasps out a small squeal and a hand clamps down on her mouth. Barbara lashes out in panic, her hands blindly clawing at her attacker.

Then her attacker releases her and spins her around. "You. Why're you here?" He hisses.

Barbara recoils from the man, but she freezes as soon as she sees his face. The man has a black mask that covers the lower half of his face, but she'd recognize him anywhere.

Barbara opens her mouth a few times, breathing hard, her head full of questions that she dares not ask. _Why is he wearing a mask? What is he doing here?_

The entire situation screams menace.

And the most important question of all: _Where is Renee?_

With a lump lodged tight in her throat, Barbara turns her head to scan the apartment.

Jason turns her face back to him, his gloved fingers under her chin unrelenting. " _Why_ are you here?"

"I…Renee forgot her ID at the gallery." Barbara holds the ID up for him to see.

Jason turns his eyes to the ID card, then back to her face. "You came here, you knocked on the door, but no one answered, then you left." He pauses. "Send the cop a text to tell her that you tried to drop off her ID but she wasn't home."

He lets go of her. "Go now."

Just like that. He expects her to ask no questions and dutifully obey him. But she can't.

Barbara's breaths come out in small pants as her eyes follow Jason around the apartment, her feet rooted to the floor. She watches his movements, her heart pounding like a drum roll out of control.

And she can only gasp in horror when Jason walks behind the sofa and hauls a body up by the arm.

Renee slumps in Jason's grip, unconscious, with dark glossy hair draping over her face. Jason grabs the telephone receiver beside the couch and swiftly wraps its cord around her neck.

"No! No," Barbara cries, alarmed. She moves towards them, but stops in her tracks at Jason's threatening stare. "Why?"

"You know why."

 _Because they kissed?_ "I swear there's nothing between us!"

Jason loops the telephone cord around Renee's neck one more time. " _This_ is what I could've done to you. Now get out."

"Sh-she's a cop!"

Jason pulls the cord tight, his muscles taut with strain.

"No!" Barbara chokes.

Many people have failed her in her life, even Renee. But she did try to care for her; she did try to harbor her from all the harshness in the world. She doesn't deserve this. Not her…

Barbara watches helplessly as Jason crushes the life out of Renee, whose body remains limp and defenseless against his assault. Barbara cannot breathe, she cannot even blink. It's like Jason is strangling her as well.

Then she catches something shiny out of the corner of her eye.

Just a few feet away from her lies a black and shiny object.

Renee's gun.

Barbara scrambles over and does the unthinkable.

She picks up the gun and points it at her boyfriend shakily. "Jason…please…let go."

Jason eyes her gun and says slowly, "She is that important to you."

"It's not like that!" Barbara counters indignantly.

"Do you even know how to use that?" Jason's eyes are amused, so sure of himself, and Barbara can imagine a smirk beneath his mask.

And he is right, she has never used a gun before.

She holds the gun tight with both her hands, her hands clammy and numb. "Please…" she pleads, on the verge of tears.

"It's now or never," Jason says, his arms unyielding, his eyes mocking. "How long do you think it'll take before her brain's dead?" He gives the cord another forceful pull.

Not long. The clock in her head ticks, amplifying the pounding of her heart. It is distracting.

"Please…don't…"

"Just to be safe, maybe I'll just break her neck." He frees one hand and grabs Renee's throat sadistically, obviously enjoying Barbara's distress.

 _ **BANG**_ _._

The gun recoils and Barbara falls back. One glance at Jason and her eyes widen in terror. "No…no, oh God."

Renee lies on the floor, unharmed. Beside her, Jason is clutching his arm and grunting in pain; blood gushes out from his gunshot wound.

Barbara crawls over quickly, her face paper white and concerned. _That was only supposed to scare him!_ "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

He slaps her across the face hard and she falls on the floor, his blood staining her face. "Treacherous bitch," he says through gritted teeth. _How. Dare_ …

Barbara whimpers, tasting blood from where her teeth cut the inside of her mouth. Her cheek burns and her eyes water. She blinks her tears away and scoots back to him. "Here." She takes off her scarf.

Jason takes her scarf and ties it around his injured arm tightly. Barbara steals a glance at his face and swallows hard. Beads of sweat break out across his forehead, and his eyes blaze with agony and extreme anger. Her hand itches to touch him, but she knows better. If he was angry with her before, now he is murderous.

She helps him stand up, then they hear the sirens of police cars.

"Fuck," Jason curses. "Roll up the rug and give it to me."

Barbara hurries to obey.

He takes the blood-stained rug and gives the area one last look. Then he strides towards the door, and Barbara moves to follow him.

"You stay," he orders harshly. "Stall them. Act shocked. Give me an hour before you tell them the truth. You found a man attacking your girlfriend and you shot him. Clean the blood on your face."

"Don't forget," he added, giving her a betrayed look, "if I fall, you fall."

Then he leaves the apartment, leaving Barbara abandoned and crying.

X X X

Barbara manages to sit through the entire time which she gives her witness statement, though her mind is as restless as the Gotham ocean. _How is he? Did he find a doctor to take out the bullet? Did he make it home?_

As soon as she is done she rushes back to Jason's apartment building. She punches the elevator button repeatedly, as if that would drive the elevator to run faster.

The elevator door opens with an annoying _ding._

Barbara runs into the parking lot, her stilettos clicking against the concrete floor loudly. Her heels hurt her feet as she runs, but she does not slow down. She only comes to a halt when she finally sees the familiar black sedan.

She walks up to the car and places her hand on its hood, and relieved tears instantly spill down her cheeks.

The hood is still warm. Jason must have just gotten back. He is fine.

Barbara runs her hand over the shiny surface of the car longingly.

She can mouth off to him and get away with it. She can even kiss Renee and get away with it.

But there is no coming back from what she did today.

She can't stay.

X X X

"Where is she?" Jason asks, his voice strained with vexation.

 _She was last seen at the train terminal, but we don't know which train she boarded._

"Is there any way to find out?"

 _At this point it's impossible to be sure. She didn't use her credit cards, bank cards, didn't use her cellphone. She is running._

"Tell me something I don't know," he spits, losing patience.

 _I'm sorry Mr. L., we'll keep looking but we'll need more time._

Jason hangs up and throws his phone across the room. He gulps down a full glass of wine and hurls the glass through the room as well, and the sound of shattering glass fills the silent space.

"Barbara Kean, Barbara Kean, Barbara Kean…" He places his hands on his hips and paces around the room, muttering _her_ name like some kind of magic. Like a spell. As though she will materialize at his command. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks tired, but underneath all that is a savage determination.

He had come back from the doctor and found his apartment empty. He searched every device—he had put a tracking device in her car, one in her phone, one in her wallet—with no results. Turned out she didn't take anything that could be bugged—purses, handbags, large coats…

Perhaps he has revealed too much of himself during their time together. She knowshim as much as he knows her.

She never went back to the gallery. Then he tried stalking Renee Montoya, James Gordon and even Leslie Thompkins…

The private detective was his last resort.

It seems she got scared after she shot him, and she ran.

And she should. Because she was right.

He _will_ kill her. If he ever sees her again, he will kill her.

 **11**

 _Three months later…_

Barbara puts a cigarette in between her lips and pulls out a lighter. She clicks the lighter on, a spark comes up, yet no flame. She clicks again, still no flame.

Then someone holds out a lighter for her.

She dips her head and lights her cigarette, drawing the smoke deep in her lungs. She never used to smoke, still does not enjoy it. But it reminds her of someone worth remembering.

"Thanks," she says coolly, exhaling a puff of smoke.

The man sits down next to her, a bit too close. "Hi, name's Jason."

That catches Barbara's attention. She looks up at him, and refrains from scoffing in his face. "I'm not interested."

Jason is a very common name, she silently berates herself. It is ridiculous to get her hopes up every time she hears that name.

Her fingers start stroking her thigh unconsciously, where the name is carved into her skin.

She ran far, but she wonders if a part of her yearns to be found.

"Come on, at least let me buy you a drink," the man says, wrapping one arm around her shoulder.

Barbara drags in another intake of tobacco. "I don't want a drink."

"You came here for a good time, we can have a good time. Just let me show you," the man whispers in her ear and places a hand on her thigh, squeezing sensually.

 _"If you ever let anyone touch that beautiful body again..."_

Barbara jumps up at his touch, and before she registers her actions she has picked up a beer bottle off the table and crashed it against the man's head.

The bar quiets down and all eyes are on her. Barbara sucks in a shaky breath, realizing what she has done.

The man on the floor groans in pain, his hand clutching his bleeding head. "What the fuck? She's crazy. She's crazy!"

Barbara looks around her, terrified, and his statement reflects in everyone's eyes.

 _She is crazy._

She drops the broken bottle and runs.

 **12**

 **Gotham Daily Mail:**

 _ **THE OGRE STRIKES AGAIN!**_

* * *

 **Author's note:**

I have no clue what car Jason drives LOL I do know that it's black though.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gotham or its characters.

* * *

 **13**

Gotham is not the safest place to roam at midnight, that Barbara knows.

But when have the streets become this _deserted?_

Barbara got off the train thirty minutes ago, and has been waiting by the taxi stand since. The streets are empty; cars are sparse on the usually busy roads.

Seeing that her chance of getting a cab is slim as a stick, Barbara starts walking, at the same time questioning the wisdom of coming back to Gotham.

She knows this is beyond ridiculous, but she barely has a life anymore (not that there was much of a life to begin with).

She dreams about him every night. In her dreams sometimes he is gentle, sometimes he is cruel, but she _never_ stops dreaming about him. Sometimes he teaches her how to kill, sometimes he _makes_ her kill…and sometimes the dreams are too embarrassing to talk about.

But in every dream he tells her, _"Trust me when I say I can find you wherever you go."_

Then why hasn't he?!

Barbara shivers at the memory of his voice, and the base of her spine feels weak for a moment, like jello.

Living like a shell in the day and having the most vivid dreams at night is no way of living. She can take it no more.

 _But what if Jason kills her at first sight?_

She'd thought about bringing a weapon, but she came with the intention to be his again, to find the anchor that'd saved her from floating through life before…

And she knows well that it's going to take submission, not offense.

The night wind blows against Barbara's face and she swallows, her mouth dry; an uneasy feeling creeps over her and gives her gooseflesh.

She has been walking for 20 minutes, but the streets are still empty. None of the bars or clubs are open. It is a ghost town.

 _What_ happened to Gotham?

She keeps walking.

Then suddenly she hears the rustling sound of nearing footsteps and a few men come out of a dark alley, blocking her way. Barbara stops in her tracks and stiffens, her body tense like a stretched rubber band. She tries to walk around them.

One of the men grabs her, and she screams.

Too many hands. Hands on her arms, on her legs. The men ignore her screams and drag her into the dark alley.

She kicks and writhes against them, screaming at the top of her lungs. "LET GO OF ME. DON'T TOUCH ME! HELP! HELP ME! STOP!"

"Ha. Can't believe she's stupid enough to wander alone on the street." They laugh. "Babe, we'll make you feel good." Dark figures press her against the dirty ground and hands grope her body, ripping her dress open.

Barbara cannot believe she is going to be raped. Tears stream down her face as the men hold her down and immobilize her. Unwanted hands grab her chest. She can't push them away. She can't kick her feet. Then she hears zippers unzipping.

The realness of what is going to happen breaks her down, and she struggles fiercely, sobbing and screaming, "Jason! Help me! Jason! JASON!"

"What the hell are you guys doing?"

The men stop, their attention turned to the opening of the alleyway. Another group of men is standing there.

All hands leave her and she tugs her torn dress closed together, backing away from them. She watches the two groups of men with frightened eyes, trying to make herself as small as possible.

"Who the hell are you?" One of her attackers demands.

"This is The Penguin's turf. You don't screw around here. Get the fuck out of here!"

Someone snorts. "The Penguin can waddle in the North Pole. Sal Maroni's dead. This is no one's turf."

What penguin? Sal Maroni…boss of the Maroni family is dead? Barbara blinks, feeling a tad safer as no one's attention is on her. It finally dawns on her why the streets are deserted. There must have been full-blown gang fights going on recently.

Barbara edges towards a separate alleyway, and the men are too preoccupied to notice. Step by step, Barbara is far enough from them when she hears a gunshot. And she runs.

.  
.

Barbara holds her torn dress tight against her body and runs like the Devil himself is chasing her. There is only one safe place. She runs and runs, never stopping and giving her legs a chance to register how _worn out_ they are.

She never stops to think about _where_ she is running to. Her subconscious mind has pulled out an internal map and her legs have decided the route. She runs into the familiar high rise building, only catching her breaths when she is finally in the enclosed space of the elevator.

Once she makes it inside the apartment she runs to the kitchen and gulps down half a jug of water, her chest and lungs painful and grateful at the same time. Only then she allows herself to relax, knowing that she is finally safe and no one can hurt her here.

She exhales heavily and puts the water jug back in the fridge. And when she walks out of the kitchen reality hits her.

Barbara freezes in place. She blinks several times to make sure she is seeing right.

She has run back to Jason's apartment without thinking. With her panic kicked into high gear, when she ran for her _life_ , her body chose this place. She'd planned to go back to her own apartment first, then approach Jason more…carefully.

But she does feel safe in here, and she is reluctant to head back out. Barbara sighs in defeat.

Jason is obviously not home, otherwise he would have come out with all the noises she has made. Barbara changes into a more covering outfit, her skin still crawls where those men touched her.

She drops into the sofa and hugs the cushion tight, breathing in Jason's scent.

Then she hears a whimper.

Barbara's head snap up, alert. And there is the sound again. A whimper. Then a sob. Barbara jumps up from the couch, still clutching the cushion like a shield. She looks around her, checking for dark shadows that might leap out at her.

Then she hears the wail, distant but desperate, and Barbara finally sets her eyes on the set of doors that lead to Jason's kill room.

A tight knot forms in Barbara's throat. Her panic slowly dissipates, but suddenly she feels a different kind of fear.

She drops the cushion and pushes the doors open.

Time seems to stand still. The air suddenly seems heavy, weighing down on her chest and suffocating her.

She _knew,_ she knew what she'd see, yet it still shocked her.

A blonde woman is restrained in the middle of the room. Her arms are raised above her head and cuffed to the cross attached to the ceiling. A gag occupies her mouth.

The woman's eyes go wide at the sight of Barbara, conveying a mix of disbelief and hope. She whines against her gag, her hands yanking at her bonds—desperately asking for help.

And tears fall down Barbara's cheeks. She covers her mouth and chokes back a sob, but still her tears fall, unstoppable. Never has her heart ached so much.

Why does this happen again and again?

They _always_ find someone new to replace her.

She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, and her eyes turn steel-hard.

Barbara walks over and unbuckles the woman's gag. She gasps, half-sobbing, "Help. Help me. We need to go before he comes back—"

"How did you get here?"

"Untie me please…the chains. Find the keys," she pleads urgently, her chest heaving from extreme anxiety.

" _How did you get here?!"_ Barbara raises her voice, insistent.

The woman's eyes flutter in confusion and fear. "A man imprisoned me. He's … he's not right in the head. Please…we have to go, please…" she falters, her words rushed and frantic.

"You slept with him." The words come off as more of an accusation than a question.

And her expression—surprise, shame—answers everything.

Barbara thinks she hears something _snap_ in her.

A flicker of rage passes over Barbara's face and she pushes the gag back into the woman's mouth, muffling her cries.

The woman first stares at Barbara with tearful eyes, shocked and disbelieving; then she starts sobbing quietly, crushed to finally realize that Barbara is not her saviour. Far from it.

 _It's just another person with mental issues._

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, really," Barbara says, her voice eerily calm and distant, like she is not really talking to anybody. "It's easy to fall for him. He seduced you, didn't he? He is good-looking, and he can _talk._ He can get in your head and you feel like you're…hypnotized."

The woman squeezes her eyes shut, wishing she didn't have to hear this.

Barbara gazes at her and takes in her appearance. Blonde hair, pale blue eyes, dainty features, even the slight bunny front teeth. _She can see their resemblance._

Did he ruffle that hair with affection? Or did he fist that hair possessively? Did he kiss those red lips slowly, or aggressively?

HE SHOULD NEVER HAVE HAD HIS HANDS ON HER.

"You are not supposed to be here." Barbara grits her teeth resentfully. "You think he loves you?! You're just a replacement! _My_ replacement. This room—" she gestures at the room, then she grabs the woman's arm and gives it a harsh shake, "—these chains. They're for _me._ This is where Jason punishes _me._ This is where he makes love to _me."_ Her voice grows to a shout, covering the woman's whimpers. "I don't even like this room! But that doesn't mean I want someone else to use it!"

Barbara gives the woman's arm a savage tug, attempting to free her from the chains. _Her_ chains. The woman lets out a muffled scream.

Barbara looks up at the chains, a deep frown on her face. She doesn't know where Jason keeps his keys.

She walks to the back of the room and starts searching through Jason's stuff furiously. With no luck.

She lets out a frustrated cry, then her eyes settle on something else.

A large knife from Jason's toolbox.

Barbara comes back before the woman, a faint smile curving her lips. "I'm sorry. You can't stay."

 **14**

Jason doesn't come back until morning.

Amber—his new captive—had frustrated him. He'd coaxed and coerced, but not a sign of progress. He had proposed a relationship, and she _fainted_ on him. He had to release some tension before he lost it and killed her, just like he did the previous one…

He does not want to admit that maybe he is losing his touch with his own games because he only wants _her._

No matter how much she looks like Barbara Kean, it just isn't the same.

 _Why can't they just be like_ her?

Jason glances at his kill room and exhales. He doesn't have the energy.

He walks to his bedroom instead, then suddenly he freezes.

From where he is standing he can see a bulge under his blanket on his bed. Blonde hair scatters across his pillow.

He looks at his kill room sharply in alarm, then looks back at his bedroom.

 _How did she get out? So she escaped from his kill room and decided to sleep in his_ bedroom _instead? Odd, but interesting. Perhaps they did make progress after all._

He walks into his room quietly, not making any noises.

"Amber," he calls softly, not wanting to scare her unnecessarily. For not escaping from the apartment, he might even give her a reward. "Amber," he calls again, then he pulls the blanket off of her body.

He is so taken aback by what he sees that he staggers back a step.

Barbara jumps awake, startled. She stares at Jason, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. There are many things that she wants to say to him, but the most pressing question comes out: "Who…is Amber?"

Jason quickly recovers from the shock and his face darkens. "That's none of your concern, and if you were wise you would never have come back."

It is a slap in the face. Of course, he is going to kill her on the spot. Did she hope that he would have _missed_ her like she has missed him? Or that he would _care_ that she almost got assaulted on her way back here?

Not when he got himself a new whore.

"Of course you don't want me to come back. You wouldn't want me to interrupt you and that woman you're hiding in there!" She points at the direction of his kill room accusingly. "Your new soul mate? How many did you go through after me?"

Jason's lips curl up in a stiff smile. "Enough."

To think that she couldn't even _stand_ to have other men touch her, Barbara sees red.

She raises her hand to slap him.

Jason catches her wrist. Utter rage passes over his face and he strikes her across the face, panting hard.

Barbara clutches her burning cheek, and she breaks down, crying and shouting in his face, "I didn't come back here to see you with your slut!" She throws a pillow at Jason. "You're no different from Jim."

She jumps off the bed and runs out the door. Jason follows closely after her, infuriated. _She still thinks he'll coddle her._ He grabs her arm and spins her around, twisting her arms roughly behind her back.

Barbara grimaces at the pain. But it almost feels like he is embracing her, his body warm and muscular against her soft one. Her throat tightens.

"At least she didn't shoot me with a gun," Jason spits out each word threateningly.

Guilt and shame swallow Barbara at once, but she keeps her chin raised stubbornly. And suddenly a sadistic smile tugs at her lips. She leans close to Jason, her lips almost touching his.

"Well, she can't," she whispers.

Jason narrows his eyes and gives her a wary look.

"Did I forget to tell you I have a surprise for you?"

At her smug smile, Jason seems to understand something. He lets go of her and strides up to his kill room, pushing the doors open.

Rows of fluorescent lights come on and illuminate the room. In the centre is Amber hanging from the ceiling chains, right where he put her earlier.

But Amber's head tilts to the side limply, her eyes closed. Her face is as white as a ghost, except for the trails of blood that have trickled down her lips.

Astonishment registers on Jason's face when he sees the hilt of a knife protruding from her chest, the blade buried deep in her flesh. Dried blood covers her entire torso, and more blood has stained the floor.

Rage storms through his chest.

 _SHE. HAD. NO. DAMNED. RIGHT._

Then he hears the slam of the door.

"Damn it," he curses and runs out to look. Then he walks out of the apartment door to check.

Once again she slipped through his fingers.

Barbara is gone.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

1\. I wrote about the changes in Gotham to show that my story (tries to) follow the timeline of the show! Hee hee.

2\. I know penguins live in the south! Apparently that dude didn't know!

3\. I actually feel bad to have Barbara kill the girl. Oh man. That's so wrong!


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gotham or its characters.

* * *

 **15**

 _Click._

Jason turns the key and opens the door slowly. He steps into the dark apartment and slides the door closed, his movements lithe and quiet.

No one in their right mind would simply return _home_ after how things were left between them. He wouldn't expect anyone to.

But Barbara, despite her changes, is still fairly naive in his book. He moves straight in the direction of her bedroom, imagining how he will take her life. Though his heart clenches at the decision, she has crossed way too many lines. She is out of control. Out of _his_ control.

Suddenly a child-like voice cuts through the silent air.

"Are you Barbara's new boyfriend?"

Jason turns sharply to the source of the voice, his hand tightens around his switchblade. A dark figure—he squints his eyes—a _girl_ —is standing in front of the kitchen cupboard with a backpack in hand. She pays him little attention, keeping her eyes solely on the contents in the cabinet. "I'm her roommate." She tosses boxes of crackers and several canned foods into her backpack. "Sort of."

Jason regards the girl cautiously. _Roommate?_ Barbara did mention a roommate before, but a _child?_ "Is Barbara here?"

She moves on to the frozen food in the freezer. "Nope. There's a note on the table, I think it's for you."

In two big strides Jason walks to the dining table and finds the note. He has to look closely to make out the writing in the dark.

 _I'll be waiting for you._

 _Love,_

 _Barbara_

There is a date and time, but no location. Intrigued, one side of Jason's mouth lifts in the beginning of a smirk.

The girl zips her backpack closed. "You guys playing hide and go seek?"

"Seems like we're." Jason smiles. "Where do you think she's hiding?"

She shrugs. "Where you first met or first kissed, somewhere really cheesy." She walks out of the kitchen and opens the balcony door, then she pauses.

"Do you have cigarettes?"

Jason pulls out a pack of cigarettes and tosses it to the girl. She catches it and shoves the whole pack in her pocket. By the balcony the street lamp shines over her and casts her face in shadow. He can see the blonde curly hair that frames her face.

"I like you better than Gordon already." She turns around and pulls her goggles down over her eyes, then with the agility of a feline, she jumps off the balcony with her loot bag.

Jason arches an eyebrow at that. _That's one mysterious roommate._

 **X X X**

Jason walks into the East End Regal Hotel, wearing a suit without a tie. He looks around the spacious lobby. It is a busy hotel, full of men and women in suits and carrying briefcases. No one takes notice of him.

He turns left and walks down the hallway, passing multiple ballrooms. He can see people setting up for whatever events being held: baby shower, business ball, engagement party, etc.

He reaches the farthest ballroom down the hall and steps in, carefully closing the door behind him.

The ballroom is sizable, meant to fit hundreds of people. The ceiling is high with intricate light fixtures, and ornately designed windows line up along the wall. The fancy room is unoccupied, except for the blonde figure standing at the far side of the room, seemingly focused on the sound system and unaware of his arrival.

Jason'd thought of other places that were of significance to them before he came here.

He'd thought of the bar where he first saw Barbara. Though he had to admit she was beautiful, he had no interest in her at the time. His only plan had been to kill her brutally and leave her body for Gordon to find. A consequence because Gordon wouldn't back off. It wasn't till later when he saw the sliver of anguish and darkness in her then he became determined to have her. Oh, how _much_ he wanted her…

Then he'd thought of her parents' house, where she had her first kill. Where she finally confronted her deepest pain and resentment and learned to kill it. He'd demanded that she chose her victims, and she didn't disappoint. It was her point of no return, a magical moment that had them irrevocably tied together. It was like watching a flower blossom in his hand.

But Jason decided the East End Regal Hotel would mean the most to Barbara, where he approached her at the Wayne Charity Ball. A little bit of romance, a little bit of cajoling. The night that changed her life…she thought she'd signed up for a night of passion, but got so much more.

And here she is. She whips around upon hearing his footsteps, and produces a tentative smile. As always, she looks all too appealing in a plain black bodycon dress. Her hair falls naturally to her shoulders.

She pushes a button on the sound system before walking up to him, and a classical violin piece comes on. Jason can tell she is nervous.

And like a flash he feels a rush of predatory excitement.

He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her up to him, making her gasp, then he takes her hand in his other hand. "I'm assuming that you want to dance," he says, his eyes unreadable.

Barbara catches up with his pace quickly, matching his steps and slowly turning her body with him. The music is romantic and relaxing, yet does nothing to ease her unsettled mind. She looks into his unfathomable brown eyes and clears her throat anxiously. "You found me."

Jason curls his lips in a faint smile that does not reach his eyes. "You wanted me to find you, then why didn't you just tell me the location?"

"I want to know that you still care about me enough to be able to figure out where I'm," she says with an honest vulnerability.

"Has it ever occurred to you that it might be in your best interest if I couldn't find you?" Jason asks lowly, serious.

Barbara purses her lips, her throat thickens at the ominosity in his words. "I'm sorry."

He looks at her calmly, his steps not breaking a beat.

"I never meant to shoot you…" Barbara explains earnestly, "I wanted to scare you, but not hurt you. I'd never used a gun before and it—"

He raises her hand and twirls her around before catching her waist again. "Why did you come back, Barbara?"

Barbara licks her lips, trying to form the words, her heart hammering so wildly it's going to make her feel sick. "During our time together, I felt something…and I couldn't let it slip away."

Cold amusement flashes in his eyes as he recognizes the exact same words that he's said to her before. "You're sorry for what you did."

Barbara nods, her eyes wide and hopeful.

"Then killing Amber must be your way of apologizing," Jason says impassively, his words heavy with sarcasm. "I'm afraid I don't share your peculiar idea of what repentance looks like."

Barbara's face reddens with embarrassment and anger all at once. _That woman._ She would kill her a thousand times over.

Jason flings her out, making her do a spin then draws her back to him. He presses his chest to her back and whispers in her ear, "You missed her heart, but you did get her lung." He covers her chest where her right lung is with his hand intimately. "A knife through here. How much do you think that'd hurt?"

Barbara is shaking against him by now. Her chest heaves rapidly and her breathing is ragged. "I don't give a damn as long as she's _dead,_ " she nearly growls.

Jason cocks his head slightly. He thought he had Barbara like an open book, but she surprised him again. He'd expected excuses like _I didn't mean to kill her_ , or _It went out of hand_ or _I'm sorry._ Excuses to fabricate the notion that she could still be saved.

"Is that so? What would _you_ prefer then? A cut here?" He grasps her throat, where her pulse throbs quickly, and his other hand moves down to grab her bare thigh, where her artery is. "Or here?"

Barbara knows he could easily do it. He would do it and it probably wouldn't bother him one bit. She knows firsthand how fast he could turn from affectionate to unfeeling. But _damn_ him if he is going to kill her for that woman! "You would kill me for _her_?" She hisses, the hurt and venom in her voice evident. "Enlighten me, what was she to you? How was she different from the dozens of frogs that you kissed? Wait, don't tell me. It's disgusting." She tries to twist out of his grasp.

Jason's grip on her tightens. "I have to say I'm a little surprised." He holds her chin up, making her stare into the large mirror on the wall. "Look into the mirror, Barbara. Do you see it? I think there's more to you than meets the eyes."

Barbara stares at the mirror, taking in her own stormy face and Jason's sneering reflection. She grits her teeth and whirls around to face him. "I see me. _The real me._ Jason, I'm sorry for many things, but I'm _not_ sorry for killing that bitch. She's a replacement, you don't need her!" She locks her jaw tightly, determined. When Jason doesn't respond, she takes a shuddering breath and continues, "I hated Leslie Thompkins because I thought if it wasn't for her, Jim would have come back and driven my darkness away…but now I don't care about either of them. Now I understand…I never needed to be saved. I'm _tired_ of faking. _This_ is real, and I only want you."

Jason regards her wordlessly, pondering. His eyes pierce through her soul, and she feels her cheeks heat up.

"I should let you know, you shouldn't kill me," she mumbles, her voice getting smaller, "'cause I rented the ballroom and the hotel room online using your credit card…the cops'd likely trace it back to you…" She saw it sitting on the table last time when she was at his apartment and she just had a feeling that it might be useful.

For a fleeting moment Jason looks stunned; without the sharpness in his eyes he looks almost innocent, deceptively harmless.

" _My_ credit card?" He says through a forced smile.

"I…I only want a chance. We had something special and I want that again…I'll be completely loyal…" Barbara trails off at Jason's intense gaze. There is a hint of warning, a hint of outrage, but there is also something else—so subtle Barbara almost didn't see it.

Pride.

Jason holds her cheek against his palm and tilts her chin up, then he runs his fingers through her hair, his brown eyes filled with unveiled lust.

Barbara draws in a sharp breath and parts her lips slightly in anticipation. _This!_ This is what she came back for.

His kiss comes crashing down on her fast and hard, his hand holding the back of her neck is firm and unyielding. The temperature around them shoots up tenfold in an instant.

"Take me to your room," Jason says huskily.

They stumble into Barbara's hotel room. Jason unzips her dress, and soon she is naked before him. He only breaks his fervent kiss when his hand comes into contact with her scarred thigh.

Jason looks at his name carved into her skin with wonder. She was a caged bird that flew far far away…only to come right back here, lying underneath him. And after everything, his ownership still stands. It is a surreal feeling.

His hand shakes a little as he strokes her scars, and Barbara grins. "A man tried to touch me in a bar and I smashed his head with a beer bottle."

Jason chuckles. "Good girl."

"That woman I killed," she asks, "was she important?" She still refuses to say her name, to acknowledge that she could mean anything more than a nameless substitute.

If Jason has felt any grief over her murder, he does not show it. "Yes and no. I was trying to find someone like you, but listens better."

A small smile tugs at her lips, still she protests, "I listen."

"I think my gunshot wound would beg to differ."

Her smile falters. She pulls off his shirt gently and touches his bullet scar softly with her fingertips, her voice strangulated when she asks, "Do you still want me?"

"What do you think?" Jason says mildly.

Barbara can tell the anger is still there, but he is softening. "Wait a second." She trots over to her purse, when she comes back she hands him a pair of shackles and a key. "Remember when you said what I felt for you was the closest thing to love that I'd ever feel for anyone?" She gives him a sly smile, playfully provocative. "Well I think you might have been right."

Jason is used to taking love from women, but never has he had love given to him. He takes the shackles with one hand and holds both her wrists in another. "You do know that these are gonna stay on you for a _very_ long time." He gives Barbara a lopsided smile, and her heart flutters. She knows well that he is not what he seems, then why does a simple boyish smile still affect her?

The shackles click shut around her wrists, and its weight instantly puts her at ease. Like an anchor holding her securely in the raging sea.

She will always be scared of him. But aren't all the best guys a bit scary?

X X X

 **Epilogue**

 _8 years later…_

Jacob Skolimski is the owner of a small bar. An ordinary, uninteresting bar for ordinary, uninteresting people.

Hard labor workers go there to grab a beer and chitchat with Mr. Skolimski during their break time. Sometimes homeless men will use their hard-acquired money to buy a nice beer and sit in the bar to keep warm, until the bar closes.

Mr. Skolimski mostly keeps to himself, except for the occasional conversations that he shares with his customers.

This is his daily routines. Each day he opens his bar and serves his customers, and at the end of the day he closes the bar and sleeps in the back room.

He is a man with a lot of pain. What hurt him the most—still hurts him—is that he has failed his son many, many years ago; he has failed as a father. He loves his son dearly, yet was not able to give his son the love that he apparently needed to grow and strive.

This bar means a lot to him.

Eight years ago Mr. Skolimski was charged with accessory to murder after the fact. He spent six years in jail, which he accepted as his punishment for his failure, for not being able to save his son from Mrs. VanGroot's emotional abuse, for what his son had become.

When he finished his jail time he found a shabby motel room to stay, then one day something amazing happened. He'd woken up from the same bug infested mattress and found a bag of cash on the floor!

He knew…he just knew that must have been from his son. He used the money to open a small bar with the hope he'll see his son again.

Everyday is the same for him, so is tonight.

Mr. Skolimsiki is wiping his rocks glasses while watching the news. Gotham is fairly the same as it was eight years ago. Crimes are still prevalent, and Commissioner James Gordon is still leading the GCPD to fight vigorously. What puts Mr. Skolimiski at ease is that he hasn't heard of any Ogre cases ever since he came out of jail, though the Ogre is apparently still not caught.

A man comes up to the bar and pulls his attention back. "I'd like a glass of Scotch and a Corona."

Mr. Skolimiski looks up at the man sharply. He does not know the man—the man is very handsome, and he is certain that he has never seen him before. But his voice, he'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"I…I beg your pardon?" He says, stunned.

Jason repeats it for him slowly, "I would like a glass of Scotch, and a Corona, please."

Mr. Skolimiski sucks in a breath, and tears fill his eyes at once. "S-son—" he whispers.

Jason gives him a warning look, and he catches himself. He looks around the bar. There are only a few customers sitting at one of the larger tables, chatting loudly.

"C-coming right up," he says and turns to get the drinks ready. He understands that if he wants his son to come again, he'll have to keep the appropriate distance.

"How is your day?" Jason asks nonchalantly, leaning on the counter with his elbows.

"Good, very good." Mr. Skolimiski laughs and puts the drinks in front of him. He stares at his son, barely able to contain his excitement and joyful tears. If only he could touch him, hug him…

Jason pays for the drinks and leaves a generous tip. Then he points at a woman sitting at a table not far from them. "That's my fiancee."

The woman comes to Jason's side and takes her Corona with a courteous smile on her face. "Hi."

Mr. Skolimiski stares at Barbara in shock. His son…his son is going to get married! To such a beautiful woman! He is not sure if his age-old heart can take so many surprises in one day. A big smile breaks across his face as he puts a hand over his soon-to-be daughter in law's hand. "I'm very happy for you two."

He feels a twinge of worry and confusion when he sees the rope mark on Barbara's wrist, but is greatly relieved by the adoration in her eyes when she looks at his son.

They take their drinks and go back to sit at their table. They talk and laugh, sometimes whisper secretively like two mischievous children. Is that why there is no more Ogre case?

This is the happiest Mr. Skolimiski has been in a long time, and he has difficulty falling asleep that night.

He wonders when he will get to see them again.

 **-End-**

* * *

 **Author's note:** Wow. I cannot believe that I actually finished a story. I want to thank those who have read and enjoyed the story, who have given me feedback or kudos. Thank you for all the encouragement. I hope I didn't disappoint you guys too much…but I guess what's most important is that it's finally FINISHED! Good or bad, closure is important!

Gotham is going to start again in September! I'm really excited. Erin Richards said Barbara still had some darker places to go…(WHAT?)


End file.
